


The Travel Nightmare Before Christmas

by Antheas_Blackberry



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent, Christmas, Gingerbread Lattes, Glasgow, Happy Ending, Holiday Season, It's cold outside, London, M/M, Mystrade Advent Calendar, Sherlock is a Brat, Stressful Situations, Trains, Travel, liberal abuse of warrant cards, planes, travel disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 06:56:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13002315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/pseuds/Antheas_Blackberry
Summary: When Greg gets unexpectedly called out of town on a case at Christmastime, he faces some challenges in getting back to London.  Will he get home in time for Christmas to give Mycroft his gift?





	1. 22nd December 2017

**22nd December 2017**

 

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade stared at the phone on his desk at Scotland Yard. He needed to make a phone call that he didn’t necessarily want to place. With a resigned, heavy sigh, he dialled Mycroft Holmes’ number.

Greg hurriedly explained to his partner that he has to go out of town for a day, two at the most. He was aware that Mycroft had arranged his schedule so that they could spend all of Christmas together, but neither of them had counted on one thing.

Sherlock.

The consulting detective was already causing a disruption in Glasgow, where he had taken on a case. So Greg had no choice but to go up there and handle it, now that the local police were involved. _(In the spirit of the season and as a fellow law enforcement officer, of course.)_ Never mind that John had already called and pleaded with him to intervene several times as he was being run ragged via a frantically texting Sherlock in between chasing after his very active daughter.

Greg stopped in at the townhouse, threw some clothes in a bag, and headed to Heathrow. He’d booked himself on the first available flight to Glasgow and had just enough time to make it through security, especially if he abused his warrant card privileges. 

When he arrived in Scotland, he was immediately led on a chase of the suspect in question through the brilliantly decorated Harry Potteresque Cloisters at the University of Glasgow. Although Greg did have a brief moment where he thought they were Daleks, but that had rapidly disappeared from his mind as he ran after Sherlock. As soon as the suspect was in custody and had confessed, Sherlock conveniently disappeared, with a swish of his Belstaff coat.

Greg had no choice but to stay overnight and deal with the paperwork. Not that he wasn’t used to clearing up after the younger Holmes of course. However, this time, he was irritated beyond belief. He had special plans for Christmas Eve and he didn’t want to be delayed.

Greg texted Mycroft and ensured he’d be home by midday Saturday at the latest. He was booked on an 11am flight to London.


	2. 23rd December 2017

**23rd December 2017**

 

Saturday morning rang icy cold with low clouds and fog hanging over the city of Glasgow. Greg briefly stopped in at police headquarters to double check that the paperwork was all in order and to thank them for not murdering Sherlock.

While he was saying his goodbyes, he got a notification from British Airways that his flight (and most of the other ones for the day) had been grounded due to fog.

He headed outside into the cold morning, his breath visible in the foggy air. Greg kicked at a loose stone in annoyance and pulled out his phone to text Mycroft. 

_-My flight has been grounded due to fog. -GL_

_-Oh dear me. Shall I have Anthea book you on the next train to London? -MH_

Greg sighed. He hated taking advantage of Mycroft’s financial (and governmental) advantages, but for heaven’s sake, he had plans for Christmas Eve!

_-Yeah, love. That would be great. -GL_

_-It is no trouble, Gregory. Please allow me to do this for you. -MH_

A few minutes later, Greg got a notification that he was booked on the 15:57 train to Euston.

_-I do apologise Gregory, but that was the earliest train available. -MH_

_-It’s ok, I’ll have a bit of a wander and get some lunch. See you tonight? -GL_

_-Of course, my dear. Safe travels. -MH_

Greg took the time to wander around the shopping district, Buchanan Street, in Glasgow’s city centre. The city was lit up in all its Christmas glory and bright lights shone all around. People bundled up, hurrying about with their last minute Christmas shopping, passed him by as he strolled. Greg wasn’t worried about shopping. He already had the one gift he needed to give. 

He did take advantage of some of the last minute sales and picked up some fancy tea and biscuits for Mycroft, since he was thinking of him, and quite fondly for that matter. He was almost one hundred per cent sure that his gift would be received well. He put the thought of what would happen if it were not out of his mind.

He stopped at Starbucks for a gingerbread latte (tis the season after all) and on his way back to the train station, a light, picturesque snow began to fall. It was beautiful and Greg wished that he could share this magical moment with Mycroft. He tried to take a picture but sadly the snow wasn’t visible.

A half hour later, and Greg was on the train heading south. He sat back and put his headphones in, trying to lose himself in an audiobook. The train was fairly packed and after about twenty minutes, seemed to be getting warmer. He pulled off his jumper and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up. After doing so, he sat back again and tried to relax.

He noted to himself that no one came by to check their tickets, and that should have been the first inkling something was amiss. Greg put it out of his mind and tried to take a nap, despite the overwarm carriage.

At around half six, the train arrived at Preston. A few moments after the train stopped, an announcement came over the loudspeaker stating that there would be a twenty-minute delay. There was some minor grumbling amongst the passengers around him. Greg sighed, stretched his legs out and closed his eyes. Nothing to do but wait and complaining wouldn’t make the time go any faster, he thought.

A few minutes later, another announcement sounded stating that the delay was to be about 40 minutes while they waited for train staff to drive the train. There was more grumbling and Greg sighed heavily. Who the hell had been driving the train all this way in the first place, he mumbled to himself.

There was yet another announcement ten minutes later stating that the service was cancelled and that everyone must disembark. Greg cursed Sherlock in a variety of inventive ways as he pulled on his jumper and coat. He grabbed his bag and followed the rest of the irritated passengers into Preston station.

He walked around the station for few minutes, looking for an attendant or employee, but was unable to locate a single person. Finally, he saw a policeman, and walked up to him and flashed his warrant card. He was glad that Sherlock hadn’t pickpocketed him, despite the fact he didn’t want to pull rank, not on some overworked officer two days before Christmas.

The young policeman had no idea where the train attendants were, but assured him the station was staffed 24/7. Greg resisted the desire to roll his eyes as he was directed to the lounge. 

The lounge was basically a waiting room with toilets and a vending machine. The doors didn’t tend to remain closed; instead they opened and closed as if on a whim, letting in frigid air. Greg shivered and pulled his coat closed. He briefly wished that he hadn’t been so annoyed about the overwarm train.

Greg sat down with a fair amount of the other passengers and watched as the cancellations piled up. He pulled out his phone, looked up the number for National Rail, and made a phone call.

He spent a good twenty minutes on and off hold with a very unhelpful National Rail employee. He had to explain his situation more than once, and it was evident that this person had no idea what was going on. Finally, he was told he could no longer be put on hold and that he would get a call back when they had some more information regarding his situation.

I won’t hold my breath, he mumbled as he broke the connection.

Sighing, he texted Mycroft.

_There’s been another delay. –GL_

Thirty seconds later, Mycroft was ringing him.

“Now what?” Mycroft demanded, exasperated.

Greg was instantly annoyed. He wasn’t the one sitting around freezing his bollocks off in a train station in the middle of bloody nowhere.

Before he snapped at Mycroft, he took a deep breath. “The train has been cancelled.”

“Can’t you just take the next one?” Mycroft inquired.

Greg sighed. “I wish it was that easy. It appears that all the trains have been cancelled in and out of Euston.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” Greg sniffed and dug around in his coat pocket for a napkin to wipe his nose with. He was chilled to the bone.

“Well, you can’t sit all night in a freezing train station waiting around for a train that may or may not arrive. Give me a few minutes, Gregory,” Mycroft said, before ending the call.

A few moments later Greg had a notification that he had been booked in to a hotel, which was a five-minute walk from the station. He grabbed his bag and was heading toward the hotel when his mobile rang.

“I do hope that this is to your satisfaction, my dear,” Mycroft said.

“I’m sure it will be. Thanks, love.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for? It is not your fault, Gregory.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and cold.” And I wanted to be home with you sitting by the fire, Greg thought to himself. 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

“And I miss you,” Greg added quietly.

“I miss you as well. Please take care and get some rest.”

“See you tomorrow, Myc. Good night.”

“Good night my dear.” Mycroft said before ending the call.

Greg checked into the newly opened boutique hotel, and had to smile when he saw that Mycroft had arranged for him to be in the 007 Suite. He found the room warm and inviting, with a queen sized bed and a bathroom with an absolutely immense tub. 

Leaving his bag, he left the room and headed back out the way he had arrived. He had passed several closed coffee shops, a Sainsbury and a pub. He decided that he really wasn’t in the mood for the pub, despite its festive fairy lights and general holiday atmosphere. Instead, he went into the Sainsbury, where he grabbed a sandwich and a beer, and headed back to the hotel room to eat.

After his meagre dinner, he flicked through the television, but couldn’t settle on anything. He finally took his beer into the bathroom, filled the massive tub, and settled back with a book on his mobile for a bit of relaxation. If he was going to be stuck overnight, he may as well take advantage of the luxuries in front of him.


	3. Christmas Eve

**Christmas Eve**

 

The following morning dawned bitterly cold and there was evidence of a light snowfall that had fallen overnight. Despite the luxurious comfort of the bed, Greg had a restless night of sleep, if it could be called that. He was tired and cranky. All he wanted was a large coffee and to be home with Mycroft getting ready to celebrate Christmas.

Before Greg checked out he went off in search of coffee, finding a Starbucks en route to the station. After getting his Venti Americano, he walked over to the station to verify that his ticket would be honoured today. He was ensured it would be, so he walked back to the hotel, checked out, and headed back out into the bitter cold.

He got back to the station within a matter of minutes and sat himself down in the cold and drafty waiting room. Glancing at the departures board, he saw that the next train to London was delayed by twenty minutes. He rolled his eyes and sipped at his rapidly cooling coffee.

Finally, he was on the train and underway. After finding a seat, he sat back and got himself comfortable, closing his eyes. He didn’t bother taking his coat off as he was still freezing. 

They had only gone two stops when the train didn’t continue on after passengers had embarked and disembarked. After a few minutes, an announcement came over the loudspeakers asking them to exit the train. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Greg grumbled. “What now?”

He grabbed his bag, got off the train, and threw himself down onto a nearby bench. He was really pissed off now. He looked up from his self-pity and saw that many of the passengers were filming the train with their phones. He looked down the line and saw that the train . . . was on fire.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said to himself.

A moment later, an announcement sounded asking passengers to evacuate the station. Once again grumbling to himself, he followed the trail of people outside. 

After a few minutes, he was frozen through and beyond irritated. Despite a wan sun, the temperature had not risen; if anything it was colder than before. He walked up to a train attendant, flashed his warrant card yet again, and asked what was going on. His Scotland Yard status didn’t seem to win him any friends or influence in this case. 

The woman glared at him. “Do you understand that the train is on fire?” She sounded exasperated. 

Greg worked to control his rising temper. “I understand and appreciate that, but you’re not the fire service.” 

The rail employee returned his irritated look, but did not reply, so he turned and walked away.

Not having anywhere to go, and not wanting to leave if the fire service cleared this up quickly, he found a spot out of the way and sat down. Pulling out his mobile again, he sent a text.

_The train is on fire. -GL_

_You are joking. -MH_

Greg took a picture of the fire service, making sure to focus on the area heavily covered in smoke.

Five seconds later, his mobile rang. “What the hell has happened now,” Mycroft began and then continued on. “And what on earth is that infernal noise?”

“That’s the fire service.” He sighed and continued. “The train was on fire,” Greg said still in disbelief, with a sniffle. It really was bloody glacial out and he shivered from the cold.

“The train was on fire,” Mycroft repeated, as if he did not understand the words. “This is not a joke.”

“I wish,” Greg replied with a further sniff, which turned into a loud and harsh sneeze.

“Bless you,” Mycroft said. “Are you unwell?” His tone quickly changed from incredulous to concerned.

“Thanks. I’m fine, just bloody freezing.” 

“You are outside?” 

“Yeah, the station was evacuated.”

“They did not evacuate you somewhere indoors?” Mycroft sounded incensed.

“No, we’re all just standing around outside the station. Not really anything else we can do until the fire service finishes up.” Greg sniffed again and resisted the urge for his teeth to chatter together.

“Would you like me to send a car?”

Greg sighed. “That would take as long as it will for me to get back as it is.” He watched members of the fire service walk back and forth. Some of them were wrapping up a hose.

Mycroft huffed.

“It looks like they are starting to pack it in,” Greg said hopefully.

“I certainly hope so. I will be conducting an investigation into this, you know.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less, love.”

“Very well. Hopefully I shall see you soon.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re underway.”

Greg disconnected the call and sighed wearily. What should have been an hour or two trip at most, had turned into nearly twenty-four hours and bordering on absolute disbelief. He leant back against the wall he was sitting against and stretched his legs out only to draw them back in immediately due to the cold. He hoped that they would be back in the station and on a train and soon.

The DI thought about getting up and going in search of a coffee or hot chocolate, but once he had got to his feet, he saw that the fire service was packing it in in earnest and the people evacuated were starting to stir in the direction of the entrance to the station.

Exhausted, cold and annoyed, Greg found the nearest porter. He flashed his warrant card for hopefully the last time, and asked where he could get on the next train to London. The porter must have sensed his frustration because seconds later the man had grabbed his bag and led him into the station and up the stairs where a train was about to depart. Greg was practically thrown on to the train, much to the dismay of the people milling around by the door trying to get on.

The train was absolutely packed and Greg was squashed between a stack of suitcases and bags on a jump seat located in between the carriages. It was chilly but he didn’t care. He was on his way home to London, Mycroft and a Christmas Eve hopefully neither of them would ever forget

At half past two, Greg’s train finally arrived (without incident) at Euston Station. He all but ran from the train through the packed concourse filled with travellers bundled up in heavy coats, scarves and hats, many of them carrying festively wrapped gifts. He made his way outside where he flagged down a cab.

Fifteen minutes later he was letting himself into the townhouse he shared with Mycroft, which was decorated in all its festive glory. The tree was lit up and sparkling with the white fairy lights that adorned the boughs. He was still standing, mesmerised by its beauty, when Mycroft walked in behind him.

Greg turned and seconds later Mycroft was in his arms and Greg felt he had come home. All of his frustrations melted away in that embrace.

“You smell like smoke,” Mycroft said into his ear.

“I told you, the train was on fire.” Greg pulled Mycroft closer to him, unwilling to let him go.

Finally, they reluctantly broke apart. “I should have a shower,” Greg said before heading upstairs. That, and there was something he needed to retrieve.

When he arrived back down wearing a muted, but festive jumper, he found Mycroft had lit a fire in the fireplace and had prepared some mulled wine; its delicate spices filling the room. He had also prepared a tray of cheese and crackers, much to Greg’s delight. They sat down together in front of the fire and Christmas tree, which was still shining brightly. The overhead lights had been dimmed for occasion, and the room was warm, bright, and romantic.

After Greg had eaten his fill of cheese and crackers, he turned to Mycroft.

“I missed you.”

“And I you, Gregory.”

Greg pulled Mycroft to him, and they sat like that for some time, without having to say a word.

Later in the evening, they had a quiet meal and watched some black and white Christmas films; including The Bells of St. Mary’s, which Mycroft had never seen, but Greg used to watch with his mum when he was growing up. Greg also recounted his travel saga in great detail to Mycroft. It was nice to be able to laugh about it, Greg thought; though at the time, he felt like it would never end.

They were finishing off the last of the mulled wine when the Grandfather clock struck midnight. It was Christmas Day. Greg turned to Mycroft, a bit nervously.

“I love you.”

“And I love you, Gregory. Merry Christmas.” Mycroft smiled a bit sleepily at his partner.

“Happy Christmas love,” Greg replied. He paused a moment before producing an antique, heavy gold band. Despite the dim lighting, Greg was able to see Mycroft’s eyes grow wide.

“Mycroft Holmes, will you marry me and spend every remaining Christmas with me?” Greg was impressed he had been able to keep his voice steady. After everything he had been through over the past two days, he was terrified and hopeful all at once. This is what it all had been for, getting back to London and this one moment that would change their lives.

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Mycroft looked up at Greg. “Yes. Yes, of course my dear.”

 

Merry Christmas!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may know that I had a bit of a travel disaster a month or so ago. I like to write what I know, so I decided to use the disaster as a plot for this fic. The only thing that's different about what happened to Greg and I, is that there was no flight that was grounded, I didn't have a Mycroft (sadly) waiting at home for me, and Greg doesn't have an anxious cat, who was a very brave and good boy throughout all of this. 
> 
> I hope this is enjoyed by all. 
> 
> Thanks to @mottlemoth and @egmon73 for setting this all up!


End file.
